


For the Dancing and the Dreaming

by Ryntaia



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Swordplay, Swords, also actually cussing and stuff, implicatory language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryntaia/pseuds/Ryntaia
Summary: Jack encounters Tooth and North refreshing their knowledge of the art of swordplay, and decides he wants to learn the skill for himself. He probably could not have predicted how intimate battle can truly be. (Oneshot)





	For the Dancing and the Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Valka and Stoick’s song from How to Train Your Dragon 2, and it got me really caught up in this idea. I’ve wanted to write a North/Tooth fic for a while that was focused on their swordplay, but I didn’t really have a good framework to work it around. When I did, it ended up being Christmas Cookie AND Jackrabbit. Because of course it did. 
> 
> Don’t go looking into this looking for explicit confessions or anything. It’s all subtextual until the very damn end. And also Team Mom Tooth and Team Dad North. 
> 
> I wrote this at like 4 in the morning I am so sorry lmao

_To love and kiss, to sweetly hold_

_For the dancing and the dreaming_

_Through all life’s sorrows and delights_

_I’ll keep your laugh inside me._

Really, Jack had just gone to the Pole because he wanted to cause some standard havoc. Freeze an elf or twenty, something like that. It hadn’t been a particularly planned out excursion. Just a trip to the home of jolly old St. Nicholas himself to see what kind of trouble could be started there. The place was certainly big enough that any given place could become its own little disaster zone—with a chuckle he remembered the time he had iced all the hallways on the second floor, watching the jangling elves slide down them with shrieks catching in their throats. There had been quite a pileup by the time the day had rounded out. The little oddities had very lemming like tendencies to chase their companions off the metaphorical cliff. 

Jack had expected to be yelled at; North had seemed to find it more amusing than anything, once the boy lifted the ice from the hallways. No matter the time of the year, Santa’s workshop was always teeming with activity and business. The sprite figured that its owner probably appreciated the break from all the work to have a little fun. Who else was better for it, really? He smiled broadly as he padded lightly down the long halls, cane twirling in his hand.

He paused at a distant sound. Pale chin tilted upwards as he listened carefully; with a start he recognized the sound of blades sharply clashing against others. A fight, it sounded like someone was having a fight. Immediately Jack leapt off his feet, careening off the walls and towards the racket. Bright blue eyes narrowed as his slim hands held the long staff affront him. All sorts of thoughts passed through his head—was it Pitch Black? Had the Nightmare King returned THAT quickly? Jack was sure they had put him down for longer than _this._

The teenager barely noticed that he was curving down hallways with older designs, long out of use by the Yeti and the elves, dark and carved out in thick sturdy wood and deep reds. When Jack took a glance to the side he saw carvings of people in panels against the walls, worn ancient with time but carefully cared for nonetheless. He had no time to consider them as the clanging sound resonated again, so much closer than before.

With a shout, Jack burst through an imposing doorway with his crook facing forward and eyes narrowed. Immediately his stance loosened, looking up in confusion to the scene in front of him.

Staring back at him, equally confused, stood Nicholas St. North and Toothiana. North had his long sabers pulled from their holsters, firmly gripping one at his side and one in front of him. Both were trained in on the fluttering fairy in front of him. Yet she was not without defense; clutched in slim fingers were a large pair of elegant daggers. A line of bright white pearls shone from underneath the fingers covering the hilt. Both lacked cross-guards, with a slight but firm knuckle guard curving around the fist. One pointed at North’s face, while the other was trained against the saber curving by the woman’s neck.

Jack faltered for a moment; he wanted to ask _why_ because he had been pretty sure that North and Tooth got along pretty well and he _knew_ neither of them would betray their position of Guardianship. The sprite could think of no other reason the attack that was frozen before his eyes. The confusion and concern knit his brow as he slid one foot backwards. The tip of his staff shifted uneasily between the two.

“Jack! Why, you did not mention you were visiting today!” North dropped the sabers to a ground with a bellowing laugh, moving forward to clamp the spirit on his shoulders. A frown crossed his features when Jack’s shoulder’s stiffened under the touch, body almost instinctively moving away from the larger man. “Jack, what is wrong? You have look on your face like you are seeing death itself.”

“ _North._ ” Toothiana’s voice was firm but gentle, as if the voice of a mother. Which Jack supposed she was to her thousands of tooth fairies. Still, at the sound, the sprite’s shoulders instinctively calmed. His expression, however, remained perplexed and concerned. Violet eyes fixed on him sympathetically. “Jack, its good to see you. I’m…WE are sorry you saw this.”

“Why…are you fighting?” He asked, tone as flat as he could manage. From the look on Tooth’s face, it hadn’t work. His eyes travelled from her face to the shimmering daggers in her hand. “You, uh, you…have daggers?”

“Yes! Toothy is great warrior. A pride to all of the fae. That is what I tell her but she does not listen enough.” North announced, patting the boy’s chest as he caught onto the guarded tone in his voice. Tooth fluttered to Jack’s other side to pat his shoulder, rolling her eyes as North threw his arm out excitedly. “As Queen of the Fairy, Tooth is a glorious warrior trained by the best! She makes an excellent opponent when in a pinch, wouldn’t you say?”

“What?” Jack answered, raising a brow. He knew Tooth was tough; he didn’t know she was some sort of warrior princess. The fairy giggled nervously.

“Jack…did you think we were _fighting_?”

“Uh, _yes?_ North had a _sword at your throat._ ” The sprite said incredulously, pointing at the sabers that lay discarded in the middle of the bright room. Only now was he actually seeing it; a tiled room, three of the four walls covered in cathedral-esque windows to let in the bright sun. Behind him, on the wall by the door, was a selection of various swords and blunt weapons.

He didn’t have time to take it all in, though, because the fairy put his hands at his shoulders and spun him around, pushing him out the doors and into the hallway. The sprite threw his hands up in protest but the complaint died in his throat at the look in Tooth’s eyes.

“Let’s take a walk, Jack. Shall we?”

“Uh…sure, Tooth.”

North was left behind in the room, stroking his beard and shaking his head as he collected his sabers to place back in their holsters.

.

.

.

Toothiana had led Jack back down the carved hallways, the slower pace giving him more time to analyze his surroundings. The carving seemed to depict a village, numerous people sitting amount the olden buildings. His eyes trailed along the mystery faces, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the woman holding a large honking goose. She looked happy nonetheless. Nigh joyful, even.

“Jack.”

He looked away from the carved face into Tooth’s feathered one.

She looked almost apologetic. Sad, even.

“North and I were training.”

He blinked. What?

“He had his sword at your neck.”

“North and I train very seriously.” She bit her lip for a moment. “We are both at a level where we CAN train in such a way. Though…we haven’t, not in a long time. This is the first time I’ve met blades with him in almost a century and a half.”

Despite himself, Jack couldn’t help but ask. “Why?”

Tooth gave a huffing laugh. “The same reason I stopped collecting teeth in the field, I suppose. Business, business. When there’s so much to do and so little time, we all stopped making time for each other. But after Pitch…”

“You took up sparring with North again?” Jack supplied. The twists in his stomach from earlier had faded, replaced by a more cocky smirk. Tooth nodded exuberantly, then paused, sinking down from the air with a bit of a sordid smile on her features.

“I…was so out of practice that I could barely do anything when he took them.” Jack glanced at the fairy out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at her hands dejectedly. “A thousand years ago I would’ve slayed every one of Pitch’s lackeys and had the energy to go after him right afterwards. Instead I just flitted around like a frazzled little butterfly. Even when I attacked him with my own dagger, he smacked me away like I was a housefly.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tooth.”

“Oh, but it was. It was just as much my fault as it was all of ours, for letting our guards down in brighter times. There was a time when was blade would’ve been expert enough to end that entire conflict then and there.” Tooth sighed, knuckles white as she gripped her hands together. “I knew right there and then that I was far, FAR too out of practice. So…I asked North if we could resume our practices. He was very surprised, let me tell you!”

“When was the last time you even practiced together?”

“Oh goodness, Jack, it had to have been at least five centuries ago. I’m still rather rusty. But don’t worry!” She hastily added. “I can definitely hold my own in practice, at the very least. And soon enough I’ll be back to the level I used to be!”

“Hmm.” Jack’s stiffened form had slacked completely; now he twirled his staff in his hands to let it finally come and rest on his shoulder. Bony hand ran up the hilt thoughtfully with blue eyes trained on the crooked wood. The fairy watched in confusion as the white haired teenager strolled casually down the hall—had it been something she had said? Did Jack object to this practice sparring THAT much? She knew it had probably shocked him…

“Tooth?”

“Yes? What is it, Jack?”

“Could, uh…” His tone had become quieter, almost bashful. “…do you think that he could train me too? North, I mean.”

“You…want to learn swordplay, Jack?” She said uncertainly. One delicate finger gestured at the ice covered staff resting on the boy’s shoulder. “But, your staff…”

“I know. My staff.” He stared down at it; the expression was nigh unreadable. Tooth didn’t pry; even if she had the ability to read memories, she knew it didn’t give her the right to pry into thoughts unshared. “You know what happened when I lost it? I was a freakin’ sitting duck. When it broke it was even worse. I might as well have been one of the little kids that we’re supposed to be protecting. And I mean…what the heck am I supposed to do if I don’t have it on hand? Wait for someone else to find me and motivate me, or wait for someone to save me?”

“Jack…” Whatever the fairy queen had to say died in her throat. There wasn’t much she could say to that. Really, all she could think of right now was that she wanted to cradle the poor boy’s head in her lap and tell him that everything would be alright. But she seriously doubted the motherly gesture would be appreciated; Jack was not a child, certainly not her child, and wasn’t looking for some sort of parental pity.

Ice blue eyes met violet ones, with an intensity the woman had not seen before in them.

“I don’t want to just rely on this staff. I’m not going to wait to be saved.”

.

.

.

“Keep stance _firm_ , Jack. Swing blade with _meaning_. If you do not swing with meaning, then—” North paused, throwing out his own blade to block the razor sharp tips of Tooth’s daggers. With a strong push forward the fairy was thrown to the ground; fluttering wings brought her upwards for the attack again. Jack watched in fascination as the blades met, his own strokes forgotten. “—your opponent ALWAYS will win. Now practice stance! Is off!”

“Right, right.” Jack stumbled back into the correct position, holding the wooden weapon out in front of his body clumsily. One of the Yetis had quickly constructed a practice sword for the sprite; North had considered giving the boy a real metal sword but Tooth immediately objected. It was not safe, she had protested. Within the depths of his mind he thanked the fairy woman. Watching the way they went at it, Jack was pretty sure he wasn’t ready for that kind of combat yet.

“Jack, you have to remember that while being able to swing the sword is important, defense is just AS important!” Tooth added enthusiastically, eyes sparkling as her daggers crossed over each other to catch the sharp edge of North’s sword between them. With a quick flick of the wrist the sword was dislodged from the man’s hand, clattered across the floor and out of reach. North blinked then gave a hearty laugh. “A good defensive, you may have heard, is just as good as a good offensive. You are incomplete without it.”

“Tooth is right! You can know how to swing sword all you like, but if you have no sword then what is the good?” Jack averted his eyes for a moment, preferring to focus on whacking the straw dummy sat up across him. It couldn’t exactly provide him with any practice on defense so for now, he figured, he could focus on what he could do without a real opponent. His foot slid forward, slightly to the right, as the weapon resting by his ear slammed down precisely against the bale. It made a satisfying thunk.

“Ah-ha! That is the kind of response we like to hear from that dummy. That is the sound of power in the blow.” North commented as he jumped back to retrieve his lost weapon. Tooth was already charging at him, wings buzzing as violet eyes filled with excitement. Just in time to block the falling daggers, the bearded man pulled his arm above his head to meet her blow. “But try to be aiming a little higher, around where the neck would be. If you are fighting enemy, then you are wanting to go for the kill, _da_? Where you hit now is where you hit when you need something.”

“Need something?” Jack said curiously.

“When the person you fight has a secret you need, Jack, sometimes you cannot go for the kill. There will be a lot of times when you fight an opponent who is more useful alive than dead.” Tooth chirped in as she dive bombed North from the top of the room. The blades at her side curved inwards to meet her opponent’s neck on both sides; both sabers blocked her out and pushed back at her assault. With fervor she pushed back. To Jack’s surprise, North’s legs shook slightly, threatening to push back away from Tooth’s force. But with a quick slash he chased the bird away. Tooth landed elegantly on the tiled floor, eyes darting up and down the imposing form as if inspecting for any possible opening to take advantage of.

“I guess that makes sense.” Jack mused, absentmindedly whacking at the straw dummy again. North blocked one of Tooth’s precise blows with one saber and pointed the other at the young sprite.

“Never strike without meaning! Find thing in mind that you wish to strike, and strike it! Do not allow self to be distracted by other things. Dealing with more than one enemy, that is lesson for another day, I think.” Jack flushed violet at the statement. North had noticed his lack of focus.

But how could the man blame him? The glorious strike of Tooth’s gold lined daggers against the silver sabers, the glow of immaculately preened green feather circling and striking at a man best described as a behemoth, the expertise and precise nature of each and every slash of the blade—and to think he had been surprised when he found Tooth knew how to fight with such weaponry! It was a display impossible to tear his eyes away from, this practice that they indulged in.

 _It’s almost like a dance._ Jack flushed again at the thought as he stepped forward to slam at the dummy again. _A dance…? That’s a little intimate, isn’t it?_

He watched from the corner of his eyes as he stepped forward this time, taking in the excitement on North’s face. It was met with equal vigorous passion as Tooth darted forward to pass between the twin blades. Her hand firmly grasped the man’s shoulder, dagger pointed away from his throat as she vaulted over his back and spun on her tiny feet to jab one of the sharp points against North’s back.

Jack stilled entirely, wide blue eyes watching enthralled at the motionless pair in front of him.

“Concede defeat.”

“You think so, already?”

“I do.”

“Ah, see, Jack, this is why you must practice. If you do not pay attention than opponent will have no trouble getting the upper hand, _da_?” North said with a silly grin. The boy cocked his head to one side. Tooth’s stance relaxed slightly to tilt her head, addressing Jack with a knowing nod. To her surprise, a hand came down on her wrist to knock the dagger against North’s back out of her hand. Something akin to a squawk spilled from her lips as North rounded on her to catch the other dagger in her hand. It toppled across the room and a saber rested on the fairy’s shoulder. She sat, shocked, on her knees at his feet.

“You should know better than any that I do not concede defeat, Toothiana.”

She was silent for a moment, then her thick lashes closed over her violet eyes and a smile spread over her face. North offered a hand and she pulled herself up aside him, smoothing out loose feathers from her crown using her thumb. Jack watched in shock at the reaction.

“Wait, he cheated!” Jack protested.

“That he did.” Tooth shot an amused glance at North.

“And, what, you’re okay with that?”

“Jack.” North clasped an arm down on the fairy’s shoulder and met Jack’s gaze. It was a far more serious one than he had given Tooth upon her defeat; it was closer to the severe face that the ice sprite had been given a glance of when the warrior had asked him about his core for the first time. “Do you think OPPONENT will fight fair?”

.

.

.

It had been about a month into North and Tooth’s sword training regime when, without any warning, they invited Bunnymund to join in on the whole secret training business. Though it wasn’t much of a secret with four of five guardians involved in it. And knowing Sandy, it was more than likely that the mysterious and silent man knew well about it. The Sandman had his ways to know just about any secret and it was no small task to keep it from him. Jack figured he mostly just wasn’t interested in sword training.

The rabbit, on the other hand, stood across from him rolling a shoulder and effortlessly sliding into the correct stance. Jack scowled as his own feet betrayed him, deciding that then of all times was the right one to not pay attention to the lessons lodged in his memories. Instead he found himself glancing repeatedly back at his feet to assure himself that he was where he needed to be. Even then it felt slightly off. The attentive daily training felt like farce when standing across from Bunnymund.

Still, he was not about to lose his façade. Instead he smirked at his opponent. “You know swords, Bunny? You never told me.”

“Ha. Don’t even try, Frost. I can see it in your eyes.”

See what? Jack wondered. Probably the trepidation eating away at his insides. The youth knew he wasn’t standing in front of a motionless hunk of hay this time. He was standing in front of a living, breathing, trained opponent with a practice sword like his own between his paws and a stance far more mature and refined than his own childish attempt. In the back of his mind he remembered something about the Easter Bunny bragging about knowing martial arts. At the time he hadn’t thought much of the blatant show of ego but now, on the other side of the rabbit’s blade, Jack was left wondering just how much Bunny knew about other fighting styles.

_Don’t even try, Frost._ He repeated Bunny’s words to himself humorlessly.

With that he stepped forward deftly to swing the sword towards the rabbit. But the doubt was obvious in his motions; he knew even before his arms moved that the rabbit would slam the sword up against his own. He didn’t expect for Bunny to pull downwards and force his entire upper body downwards, curving the blade in a circular motion. Both tips met with the ground. Jack’s arms shook with the effort to push back against the decidedly strong force that he pushed back against. Licking his lips, he looked up into his opponent’s eyes; bright green met icy blue and Bunny grinned as he pushed further against the sword. The strain was beginning to take its toll on the sprite’s arms and for a moment his smarmy expression faded to one of frustration.

“Y’can’t just keep yerself cornered, Frostbite.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the statement. Then, surprisingly quickly, his feet shifted underneath him and the wooden blade in his hand swung in the direction of the force Bunny was placing against it. Deftly, with more certain motions, Jack spun the weapon over the rabbit’s and slammed it against the other side of the blade. It slammed of Bunny’s grip and fell uselessly to the ground.

Not for a moment did his eyes leave his opponent’s, entranced with the view it served—an oppositional presence that Jack was so used to. Yet despite the familiarity it was a different sort of look than the sprite was used to the rabbit casting onto him. A year prior it would’ve been a look tainted with disgust and frustration. Now, though, it was filled with a sense of pride and trust.

It heated his normally ice cold form with a sense of determination. And a slight tinge of annoyance.

“You did that on purpose.” Jack stated matter-a-factly as the other went to retrieve the weapon. Bunny’s ear swiveled slightly towards him at the accusation.

“Wha’s yer point?” 

Jack hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had just thought to the sense of determination in him elicited when fighting an opponent who wasn’t quite an opponent. Like a flash of lightning, clarity hit him: despite such a short period of a dance it had been, it still left him wrapped in that intimacy that he had seen in the practice of golden dagger against silver saber. For only a split second that experience that had been so personal as to make him flush while watching had been his own. And it had been his own. Not a green wing against dark red coat, but frost against blue-gray fur.

A smile spread his features again as he raised the practice blade again.

“Y’gonna answer me, ya little larrikin?”

“Sure.” Jack replied. His hands were firm on the surface of the sword now, unease boiling away from his mind. “When you make me concede defeat.”

Bunny barked out a laugh—a rough sound, a REAL sound, not like the laugh Jack was used to hearing from the other Guardian—and slid back into place across from the snow spirit. Vermillion green glinted back at the boy almost mischievously. And here Jack had been thinking that the other wasn’t capable of any such thing. Flashing back an equally tricky smile, he readied himself for the oncoming attack.

_A good defensive, you may have heard, is just as good as a good offensive._

The Tooth Fairy’s words rung vibrantly in the back of his head.

The months continued to pass as he trained with the Guardians, sometimes with North and Tooth fighting each other at the same time. Jack was not surprised to realize that Bunny was holding back. Hell, he’d probably be dead if the ancient warrior wasn’t; the other was already a handful when he wasn’t putting his whole into it. Still, Jack could feel his control of the sword growing strong, the steps becoming less practiced and more subconscious. Yet at the end of every session with them, he returned to his staff, cradling it lovingly in his hands—memories flooding his being as a gentle reminder that it would _always_ be part of him. Its icy touch was his true self, with the sword arts becoming something of a passion that developed far beyond what he anticipated.

He didn’t regret it, not even as a large bruise formed on his side from a particularly rough blow that he had failed to block from the rabbit one day. To his surprise, Bunny had halted immediately, eyes wide as Jack keeled down to his knees with a rough cough. He had leaned down next to the winter being, carefully checking on the forming bruise, asking him if he was okay, actually saying _sorry_ to Jack Frost of _all_ people…

Jack grinned.

“I didn’t concede.”

With that he pulled the wooden sword out of Bunny’s hand and, while the rabbit recovered from the shock, smacked him in the face with it. The hall was filled with loud and raucous Australian slang that day, all of which Jack was sure translated roughly to ‘you fucking little tricky bastard’. For once, Jack had a feeling that the irritable Guardian didn’t actually mean a word of it. Instead he had chuckled at the other, immediately grasping at his side when the shake of laughter shot pain through his bruised ribs. He got what he deserved, he supposed.

_If you do not pay attention than opponent will have no trouble getting the upper hand, da?_

.

.

.

Jack didn’t sleep often, so he didn’t dream often. Nowadays, though, when he did dream, they returned to the practices he had. It was preferable to the dreams about memories of old—as far as he was concerned the one memory from before his death that he had truly needed was the first one to come in his possession. He could wonder who Jackson Overland was with all his heart but in reality it only hurt to know what had once been. All he needed to know now WAS the now, and why he was where he was now. The rest was just cause for bitterness and frankly he wanted nothing to do with such feelings. He much preferred dreams of recent memories to dreams of olden memories.

The dreams he had were decidedly generous to his level of skill, his body moving at a pace that matched Bunnymund’s closer than reality. In them he had the strength and determination of North’s fine silver sabers coupled with the grace and elegance of Toothiana’s gold tipped daggers. The dance that had begun when they had started training was more evolved, closer, and more intimate. Their rhythm was matched and precise. Jack woke from that particular dream feeling almost embarrassed—and over nothing, none the less! It was just swordplay.

Still, his face would still turn that dark violet when he watched North and Tooth match blades. He hoped to learn from observing their practice more precisely but every time he tried, Jack just felt like he was intruding on something. Their eyes were lit with an emotion meant not just for the heat of battle but also for the heat of the other’s presence. Tooth had sparred with Bunny one day; the fire was there but the heat was not. They did everything the same, dodged just as precisely, but their eyes did not meet and hold as firmly as Tooth and North’s gazes when they locked weapons. There was not a completed bond of certainty that the other could raise their blade and fight back against the other. They practiced as allies and nothing more.

Jack wasn’t about to ask what the ‘something more’ was that missing from it, and why it was there in North and Tooth’s battles. He wasn’t exactly caught up on the ins and outs of more _intimate_ emotions but he wasn’t stupid either. That gaze, the precise strikes, the absolute trust in the movements…and the smiles afterwards. Jack didn’t revisit his olden memories with haste, if at all, but in a flash second he was reminded of a plain looking man with his arm around the waist of a brunette woman, looking down at him when he was nothing but a overly curious toddler.

In his dream that night he had revisited that olden memory, the plain man replaced with ruddy featured and a thick beard and the brunette woman with green feathers and dark purple plumages. He woke up halfway through, blinking bleary eyes and looking up to a trail of quickly disappearing dream sand. In it sat a newly forming family with swords crossed above them. His eyes grew heavy as a content smile spread on his features.

Sure. He could live with that.

But as the intimate sword dance of his dream with Bunny became less fiction and more reality, Jack wondered if he was okay with THAT. He found himself averting his eyes now, missing the locking of green and blue eyes, breaking the concentration he had been building up. Instead he kept his head down in a concentrated effort to look at anything but his opponent, leading to him gaining more and more unexpected bruises. The rabbit had been predicting the spirit to block the strokes and Jack knew he COULD if only he could concentrate and meet the other in the dance.

It reached a fervor pitch when Jack and Bunny accidentally did lock eyes in that intimate dance of swords. The rabbit held his gaze firmly; Jack felt his entire face flush a deep violet as spikes of ice shot up from under his feet. He yelped in surprise, jumping back away from the small patch of frost that he had managed to summon without his staff. Such efforts were typically only possible when he was feeling much, much too much of an emotional rush. Jack was sure if he had been holding his staff that he would’ve accidentally buried them both under a snowdrift.

Jack hadn’t been able to meet Bunny’s gaze after that. He had just stared at the quickly melting cluster of ice, horrified and well aware of what he had just done. Instead he stayed on his knees, attention fully on his outburst until the soft touch of wood brushed against his ear. He didn’t look up, biting his lip harshly. But the sword tip was insistent, traveling from his ear to his chin to lift his face.

“Jack.”

An odd thrill coursed through his body. Even nowadays Bunny never called him by his first name. The nicknames had become less insulting and more affectionate but for some reason his name typically went unsaid. At that moment the sprite was glad of it, too; he wasn’t sure if he could handle that constant excited twist in his stomach. Instead he just stared up, lip jutted out obstinately, as his eyes were forced to once again meet with the one he fought.

“Do you concede?”

Jack twitched in surprise. “W…what?”

“Well? Do you concede defeat?” The rabbit knelt down next to Jack, face right up against the other’s. He could feel the heat radiating from Bunny’s fur, cerulean eyes lidding in the closely comforting defeat. It was the intimacy, he thought, with closed eyes, that he had seen in the battle between North and Tooth. It was that which had made him uncomfortable to watch. And it was uncomfortable, too, to force himself to concede into that same intimacy.

Chapped lips spoke.

“I concede defeat.”

The air caught in his throat as paws, rough from war and work, gently caressed the pale skin of his face. A nose pressed against his cheek, green eyes closing with the blue. They stayed there for what seemed like hours, Jack’s head rested against the furred shoulder as he was shrouded in that unusual sense of calm. And really, when was the last time he had ever truly felt calm? When had been the last time he had felt safe or protected?

Jack wasn’t familiar with intimacy. He wasn’t even all that familiar with affection, at least not the kind that didn’t come from family.

Now, though, he felt all of that—the calm, the protection, the affection that wasn’t really for family—and that previous worry seemed to melt away.

“So what’s m’answer, then? Y’said ya’d tell me when ya conceded defeat.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s ain’t no answer, Jack.”

“Hmm.” Jack was smiling now, that beat of mischief returning to his heart. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“…Cocky little shit.” Bunny groused, but there was a hint of humor in his tone. Jack laughed against the furred shoulder, craning his head downwards to hide the sound in his hands. The swords lay forgotten to the side, though not for long. Even when they rose again, though, they rose with a sense of mirth and a matched gaze.

And so they plunged back into the dancing and the dreaming.


End file.
